


The Stars were Searchlights

by ClassyBrainiac



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Anakin Skywalker Doesn't Turn to the Dark Side, Anakin is a good dad, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Obi-Wan is a good uncle
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-23
Updated: 2017-09-22
Packaged: 2019-01-04 06:46:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12163623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClassyBrainiac/pseuds/ClassyBrainiac
Summary: Anakin Skywalker once thought he would be the first to visit every single star in the skies. Now he is well on his way, but he never thought it would be like this.In which Anakin refuses to fall to the dark side but Darth Sidious still triumphs with Darth Vader at his side and successfully executes Order 66. As the few remaining Jedi are hunted and slaughtered by the newly formed Galactic Empire, Anakin is forced to go on the run with his infant children, fleeing from planet to planet, system to system...





	The Stars were Searchlights

They were running for their lives.

The two men raced across the unforgiving sand dunes, stumbling and slipping on the treacherously soft ground. With each step their feet sunk as if in quicksand, only to be yanked free for the next rapid step. The wind howled around them, and the hot silt stung their eyes and raked across their exposed faces but still they pressed on, scrambling over the endless hills of burning sand. Each carried a small child clutched to his chest.

Finally, they collapsed behind a large cresting dune, chests heaving, coughing into the cloths tied around their necks. They quickly set the two children, a boy and a girl, between them protectively. The childrens’ cheeks were flushed and red and their eyelids drooped with exhaustion from the intense heat. The little boy’s fair hair was plastered to his forehead and his little chest rose and fell rapidly, too rapidly. The little girl regarded him with serious brown eyes before turning her head and looking wordlessly at the older man beside her. 

“We’re close,” the younger of the two men rasped, squinting at the blurred horizon, his throat scoured dry by the stinging gusts of wind. He took the canteen of water the older man offered him, but immediately pressed it into the hands of the the drowsy little boy and carefully tilted it to his parched lips, making sure not to spill a drop. 

“So are they,” the older man replied gravely, peering out from behind the sand dune, glaring back the way they had come. “We need to move. Any longer and they’ll be upon us, and we need to get Luke to someone who can help him. We should be able to lose them in Mos Eisley,” he added, taking back the nearly-empty canteen.

“Until we find a transport,” the younger grunted, almost unconsciously placing a protective arm around the sleepy boy, who lolled limply against the younger man’s chest. The man returned his eyes to the hazy horizon, but this time he seemed to be looking past it. “Mos Eisley,” he grumbled. “I swore I’d never go back there.” 

“Perhaps it is not as bad as you remember,” the older man suggested without conviction. Before his counterpart could reply, he heaved himself to his feet and pulled the little girl back into his arms. “Did you hear that, little ones? We’re going to visit your father’s birthplace.” The little boy, Luke, does not stir from his haze as the younger man gently scoops him up, but the little girl once again turns her serious eyes to the older man’s bearded face.

“Does that mean we will find someone to help us?” She asks quietly, and the two men share a heavy glance.

“Dear Leia,” the older man says finally, “You have always been wise beyond your five years. We will always find someone to help us. Trust in the force.” 

The younger man snorts. “You sound like—” A sudden instinct grips him and he ducks, folding himself protectively over his son’s limp body as a pulse of green light shoots over his head. Just like that they are fleeing again like startled birds, not daring to look back, scrambling across the wretched desert. 

Slowly, painfully, the murky horizon resolves into buildings, structures that barely stand out against the flame-blue sky. The two men can see Mos Eisley, still a long way off, close enough to see but not hear or touch. But they can see it as they dash madly onwards, the two of them sprinting to the spaceport like it is the last safe haven in the galaxy. And perhaps this is true: that this despicable cesspool of villainy is the only place left for two Jedi who have been nothing but lucky and exceptionally skilled, but right now it is as promising and welcoming as the Jedi temple itself, and as they come upon the outskirts of Mos Eisley, the older of the two allows himself to think that if the four of them can survive this, and find somewhere truly safe—

The electrical pulse that hits the younger man in the back of his leg is meant to kill, and he yells out with agony and crumples to the ground, hitting the sand hard on his side, trying to protect his son. He barely has enough presence of mind to detangle himself from the boy to shield him from further harm, because he knows what is going to happen next.

“Anakin!” The older man yells, instinctively skidding to a halt, but suddenly it is too late. Somehow it seems every creature and bounty hunter and spy and soldier the Empire has ever set after them is moments away from bearing down on them, spilling forward and rushing towards them like a flood in the desert. They waited too long, and now everything is happening too fast, and the young man—Anakin—lays screaming in the sand, clutching his knee—

The older man knows what is going to happen next. He knows what he should do, as the hum of enemy engines roars in his ears, but he seems to be frozen in the heat and in the knowledge of what he must do. 

“You promised!” Anakin is screaming at the older, begging, pleading, as they stare at each other and their enemies close in. “Damn you, you promised!” 

The older man moves suddenly, snatching Luke from where he lays sprawled on the sandy ground. Then he turns and keeps running, refusing to look back as Anakin still screams after him. 

“You promised!” They are upon the him now, wasting no time, seizing his arms and pinning him to the ground. “You promised!” he roars to the older man’s retreating back. “You prom—!”

The scream is cut off by a bang, and still the older man does not look back, clutching a child under each arm. Luke hangs lifelessly over one shoulder, Leia is sobbing into the other, and Obi-Wan does not try to stop the tears stream from his eyes as he runs, sprinting endlessly towards Mos Eisley…


End file.
